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ONYX SERIES 



PLEASING PROSE 



ONYX SERIES 



PLEASING PROSE 



By 
CAROLYN WELLS 



NEW YORK 
FRANKLIN BIGELOW CORPORATION 

THE MORNINGSIDE PRESS 
PUBLISHERS 






Copyright, 1913, by 
FRANKLIN BIGELOW CORPORATION 



>CI.Aa5].94 6 



PLEASING PROSE 

A TROUBLESOME ERRAND 

" TT OHN," said Mrs. Bassett, as they sat at break- 

I fast in their pretty suburban home, "we must 
J have a new hoe. Shall I order one from 
Moneymaker's by mail, or will you go up there to- 
day and get one?" 

"I'll go and get it, my dear. A hoe is rather 
an important implement, and should be carefully 
selected." 

At noon, therefore, Mr. Bassett went uptown to 
Moneymaker's department store, and inquired of 
the affable floor-walker where he might find hoes. 

"Street floor, third aisle to the left," was the re- 
ply, and John Bassett marched on, thinking how 
much more methodically a man shops than a 
woman. 

But when he reached the counter he saw nothing 
but stockings. 

"I beg pardon," he said to the pompadoured 
saleslady, "I was mistakenly directed. I wish to 
see hoes." 

"Right here, sir," said the pompadoured one. 
"Twenty-five cents a pair." 

"Oh," said Mr. Bassett, a light breaking in on 
him. "I don't mean that kind of hose. I mean 
just common, ordinary hoes." 

"These are the cheapest we have, sir. Twenty- 
five cents a pair." 

z 



PLEASING PROSE 

"But I mean hoes; I don't want a pair. I only 
want one." 

The girl stared. 

"We never separate a pair of hose, sir." 

"If you did, would they be half-hose?" said Bas- 
sett, unable to quell his humorous instinct. 

Again the salesgirl stared haughtily, and Mr. 
Bassett hastened to add: "I beg your pardon, I'm 
sure. But I don't mean this kind of hose at all. I 
mean garden hoes." 

"You could wear this kind in the garden," said 
the girl accommodatingly, and Bassett turned away 
in despair. 

"Look here," he said to a floor-walker, "can't 
you tell me where to find hoes. Garden hoes, you 
know, to use in the country — in a small garden." 

"Certainly, sir. You'll find what you want in 
the basement, at the foot of these stairs." 

Downstairs Bassett marched, and, after arriving 
at the department indicated, found himself sur- 
rounded by a fine assortment of large reels of rub- 
ber hose. 

"Where can I find hoes?" he exclaimed, gazing 
at the clerk in exasperation. 

"Right here, sir. Will you have black rubber, 
brown rubber, or electric hose?" 

"Not that kind; I mean hoes, for a garden, you 
know," 

"Yes, sir. This is our best garden hose." 

John Bassett looked at the clerk, 

"Never mind," he said; "I've decided I don't 
want to look at hoes, after all. I'm going to buy 
a rake." 



THE SUMMER GIRL AND THE SAND 

THE Summer Girl was a body of beauty, entirely 
surrounded by men. They all lounged on the 
sand; she wore a bloonwite bathing-suit, and the 
men wore plain blue. 

The conversation had only one trend. They were 
trying to convince her of their eligibility, and she 
was trying to bang it into their heads that she 
wouldn't marry any of them, if every one of their 
numbered hairs were hung with a diamond. 

Of course this was not a matter of bald, definite 
proposal and refusal. That had many times been 
done before with each one. But, all undismayed, 
they showed patience, perseverance, and pertinacity 
in whatever way offered at the moment. 

There were four suitors present this morning, and, 
in their rudimentary costumes, you could scarcely 
tell them apart. 

But, as a matter of fact, one was a millionaire, one 
was a dandy, one was a genius, and one was a brute. 

Naturally, the girl liked the brute best, but she 
had no intention of marrying him. 

Well, they pressed their suits, if you know what 
I mean, subtly and blatantly, spasmodically and 
everlastingly, till the girl was nearly crazy. 

At last, in desperation, she said: "I'll tell you 
what! I'll be a princess in a fairy-tale, and I'll 

3 



PLEASING PROSE 

marry whichever one of you will answer truly a 
question I shall ask." 

"Go on!" said the brute, scowling at her, while the 
others looked askance or something like that. 

"I will marry whichever one of you," she said, 
beaming impartially upon the quartet, "can tell me 
truly whether the number of sands on the sea-shore 
is odd or even." 

"Huh !" said the other three, but the genius looked 
at her earnestly. 

"Will you promise that?" he asked in tense, thrill- 
ing accents. 

"Yep," replied the girl, carelessly ; "but of course 
you must prove your answer to be true." 

"Oh, of course. And I'll even do more than 
you've asked. You know, there's more or less 
change in shifting sands, so I'll tell you whether the 
number is odd or even at a given moment, and at 
another given moment. And I shall assure you 
beyond all doubt that I am telling you the truth. 
If I do this, will you marry me ?" 

"Yep," said the girl, humoring his bluff. 

The genius sprinkled a few grains of sand on his 
blue-flannel knee. 

"Observe," he said quietly, "this is one moment," 
Then, with a sharp penknife, he divided a rather 
large, flat grain of sand into two grains. "It is now 
another moment. I assert positively that in one of 
those moments just passed the number was odd and 
the other moment it was even. Can you doubt or 
deny it?" 

"But which was which?" asked the millionaire 
pettishly. 

4 



THE SUMMER GIRL AND THE SAND 

"I didn't agree to tell which was which," said the 
genius. "Girl, you are mine !" 

"I am yours," agreed the girl ; "and I'm glad of it. 
With such diabolical ingenuity as that to help me, 
I feel sure I can manage to retain my position as 
president of our woman's club." 



ON HEN-MINDEDNESS 

OF course, a paper with the above title can only 
be written by one who has devoted hours to 
the earnest study of hens' minds. 

Incidentally, it may be remarked that hens' minds 
are represented by much the same quantity as 
snakes in Ireland. But we are considering, not the 
individual mind of a concrete hen, or even the col- 
lective mind of an abstract hen, but the quality of 
hen-mindedness frequently seen in its perfection 
among our best feminine humanity. To discuss the 
subject intelligently we must cast at least a passing 
glance at the humbler biped from which it derives its 
name. 

The hen, the normal domestic hen, has no prac- 
tical working knowledge of the great movements 
which aim for the world's uplift, for our country's 
good and for the betterment of mankind. She hasn't 
an exhaustive understanding of the Higher Inten- 
sive Culture or of the True Value of Ethics. 

But she has a beautiful, an inimitable way of ap- 
pearing to be intent on the above important mat- 
ters. 

She pauses in thoughtful concentration, she wags 
her pivot-set head in an ecstasy of large appreciation 
and then makes a vigorous and energetic dash across 
the road. She races madly, if need be, or, indeed, 
if need be not; but unless cabin'd by chicken-wire 
walls, she determinedly crosses the road. Why she 

6 



ON HEN-MINDEDNESS 

elects to cross the road is as unsolvable a problem 
as that relating to the gentleman with the iron mask. 
Trivial answers have often been suggested, but they 
are merely foolish persiflage and have no bearing on 
the hen's real motive. 

In so far as a hen may be said to have a definite 
purpose, it is to cross the road. 

Of course, this purpose is innate, and obtained in 
hendom long before the days of motors. But the 
advent of the automobile makes no difference in the 
purpose. Crossing in front of a motor car means 
merely accelerated celerity of motion, and of this a 
hen is instinctively capable, and it in no way inter- 
feres with her intrinsic hen-mindedness. 

In fact, hen-mindedness is merely a blind, dog- 
gedly persistent impulse to cross the road and make 
as much fuss as possible about it. To the hen's 
mind all desirable things are across the road ; ethics, 
culture, social prominence and perhaps the suffrage. 

Small wonder she dashes madly across; and if, 
baffled, she is forced to turn back, why that's only an 
opportunity for ostentatious fluttering and squawk- 
ing and repeated mad attempts. 

No understanding has she of the meaning of "lost 
motion" ; no glimmering suspicion of what is meant 
by "increased efficiency." Her mind, single to one 
intent, urges her virtuously and gloriously to cross 
the road. 

That is her goal, her Mecca, and in a proud burst 
of self-glory she attains it. And then? Ah, then 
shows the true henniness of the hen mind, and, in- 
cidentally, the raison d'etre of the road — she is now 
ready to start again on her great crusade of crossing 
the road — and the road is there to be crossed. 

7 



i 



THE POET'S LOVE 

AH, me," said the Poet, "I would that I could 
realize these fair visions I sing. The glorious, 
beauteous maidens I describe in my lyric numbers 
have no counterpart on this mundane planet." 

"Say not so, O Poet," droned a Genie, who ap- 
peared, conveniently enough, from nowhere ; "I will 
send thee, as thou wishest, a mortal, who shall be, 
in very truth, the realization of all the rare and radi- 
ant maidens whom thou hast sung in thy liltings, 
and whom the angels would be justified in naming 
'Lenore'." 

"Where is she?" gasped the Poet, "where is my 
glorious Goddess, with a voice like a chime of tink- 
ling silver bells?" 

"Here, — am, — I, — come — ," and a maiden ap- 
peared. Her voice was exactly like a chime of silver 
bells, and the metallic ring sounded queer enough. 
She chimed the phrase three times (because it was 
quarter to five) with the varying notes of a clock's 
chime, and it nearly drove the Poet frantic. "I am, 
indeed, thy Goddess," went on the clinking metal 
tones, "dost thou not recognize the rose leaf hands, 
with which thou hast ever endowed me? and the 
alabaster arms?" 

Well, if you can imagine the shock to the poor 
Poet! She held out long arms of cold, hard, carved 
alabaster, and at the end of each was a soft crumpled 
rose-petal instead of a hand! 

8 



THE POET'S LOVE 

"Why dost thou shudder?" she said disappointed- 
ly; " 'tis but the realization of thine own poesy. 
Stay, see my feet." 

She thrust her tiny feet in and out from beneath 
her petticoat frills, and if you please, they were like 
mice ! Pointed noses and black beady eyes gave the 
Poet a positive turn, but what could he do? Had he 
not himself vowed the similitude? 

In despair he turned his eyes to her face. She 
fixed him with a glance of her starry eyes. Starry, 
indeed. They were of the five-pointed shape, and 
gleamed with a yellow light. Coyly, she dropped 
over them a jetty fringe, — the sort mother used to 
wear on her basque. "You said," she chimed, "by 
those lids whose jetty fringe kisses thy soft cheek's 
blooming tinge." Ay, he had said it; and now she 
laid her blooming cheek against his own. He had 
said her cheeks were peach-like, — and they were. 
The fuzzy skin of the peach felt like velvet rubbed 
the wrong way, — a thing he never could stand ! 

Her swan-like neck was covered with tiny soft 
white feathers; and when she smiled, he saw two 
strings of pearl beads, like a double necklace. Her 
hair, of spun gold, scratched his face fearfully, but 
the climax came when she pressed her lips to his. 
For, her lips, as he had avowed a hundred times, 
were of coral! That bunchy sort of coral, you un- 
derstand, that they make babies' necklaces of. 

With a mad shriek, the Poet flung her from him, 
and devoted the rest of his life to the writing of 
Realistic Prose. 



MONOLOGUE BY A MODERN MOTHER 

NOW it's time for you to start for school, 
Reggie, darling. Good-by. No, don't kiss 
me ! How many times must I tell you that kissing 
is unsanitary? 

"Oh, child, how could you pat the dog! Now we 
must sterilize your hands all over again and steam 
them and then use the antiseptic spray on them. 
There! Now, here are your antiseptic gloves. Get 
your hands into them quickly. 

"And here's your individual car strap. Be careful 
not to touch any other. 

"And here are two tubes of germicide and a va- 
porizer; gargle every even hour from this bottle, 
and sniff this one every odd hour. 

"Here's your doctor's certificate in its antiseptic 
case. Show it to the teacher if he insists on cutting 
out your tonsils again, and tell him I'm sure your 
adenoids have not grown again since your operation 
last week. 

"Now run along, dearie. Don't breathe when the 
wind is blowing or any dust flying or any people 
passing. Don't breathe at all if you can help it." 



10 



THE FATAL DOWER 

ABOVE the cradle of a new-born girl-child the 
gift fairies were hovering. One dowered the 
sleeping infant with happiness. One gave her 
health ; one gave her wealth ; and one a kind heart ; 
one gave her a sense of humor. And then the Queen 
of the Fairies dowered the child with beauty. 

But after that came creeping toward them an evil 
fairy. 

The good fairies wept, but none had power to stay 
the hand of the wicked one. "But this I can do," 
cried the Queen. "Dower her you may, but I decree 
that your gift shall be but the repetition of one al- 
ready bestowed." 

"Even so, and yet shall I dower her with a curse," 
said the evil fairy chuckling; "I bestow upon this 
child more beauty." 

She waved her wand, and the child was twice as 
beautiful as she had been before. Well pleased with 
the effect of her fatal gift, the wicked fairy flew 
away and the child's doom was sealed. 



THE THIRD PAUPER 

YOU must be married," said the King. 
"I'll be hanged if I will !" said the Princess. 

"You'll be hanged if you don't !" said the King. 

"Then," said the Princess, the pretty Princess, the 
Princess with the white, white, teeth, "to spite you 
I'll marry the poorest man in the world." 

"Done !" said the King. "Let the heralds proclaim 
it, and the suitors shall meet here this day week." 

In a week the palace hall was full of suitors. In 
the elimination trials all were weeded out but three. 
These the Princess inspected carefully. 

The first of the three preferred his charges: "I 
love you so much that I would share my last dollar 
with you," he said. 

"Discard that knave," the Princess cried, "if he 
has a dollar he's too rich for me." 

The King smiled. 

The second spoke : "I love you so much that I'd 
share my last crust with you." 

"Two out!" laughed the Princess. "If you have 
crusts to eat you're not poor enough for me. Next !" 

The King laughed. 

"I love you so much," said the third, "that I'd 
share my last name with you." 

"Engaged," said the Princess, the pretty Princess, 
the Princess with the white, white teeth. 



CRUELTY IN THE KITCHEN 

IN THESE days of hunting up crying wrongs and 
bringing them to pubHc notice, in an article 
which (in the prospectus) grips the reader's atten- 
tion, we feel privileged to call attention to some 
cruelty in the household that, even when known, is 
condoned by members of our first families. 

Discipline is all very well, and in rare cases casti- 
gation is permissible; but we ask of you, gentle 
matrons, tender-hearted mothers of children, do you 
think it right to allow an ignorant, uneducated ser- 
vant girl to whip the cream? To be sure, if the 
cream is bad, that is another matter ; but how often 
good cream gets a whipping without deserving it! 
And, too, afterward, the poor cream (or rich, as the 
case may be) is shut up in a dark closet, there to 
stay for several hours. These things ought not to 
be, and yet an investigation of the average kitchen 
would show an even worse state of affairs. 

I have known these uncurbed servant girls to beat 
eggs ! Simple, good little eggs, who never were bad 
in their lives ! And yet bad eggs never are beaten ! 
Thus we see the injustices of a cold world. 

A still more barbarous practice is that of stoning 
raisins — sweet-natured, soft little roly-poly raisins! 
They never did anybody any harm (unless he 
ate too riiany of them), and they have no means 
of retaliation. It is a nature of inborn cruelty that 
would stone an inoffensive raisin. 

13 



PLEASING PROSE 

But such natures there be. Such a one would 
even pound almonds! In a fair fight pounding is 
one thing, but deliberately to pound an almond, just 
because you are bigger than he is, is the essence of 
meanness ! 

To cut bread is another unnecessary cruelty. An 
accidental cut on one's own finger is hastily bound 
up and the poor patient showered with kindly sym- 
pathy; but gash after gash is given to a loaf of 
bread, without so much as an offer of a clean linen 
rag or a bottle of antiseptic solution ! 

But enough has been said to turn the attention of 
the pubhc to these atrocities. It is for the public 
to take up the matter and insist upon having in their 
kitchens the same loving and humane spirit that ob- 
tains in their drawing-room. 



14 



CHOOSING CHOUX 

YES," said Gladys Gwendolyn to her friend, as 
they parted at the comer of the Avenue, 
"your new suit is lovely, dear, and screamingly be- 
coming. But it would improve the effect if you'd 
get one of those soft bunches of malines, a chou, you 
know, and wear it at the back of your neck." 

"I believe you're right," agreed Ermyntrude ; "I'll 
go right in to Moneymaker's and get one now." 

The two girls parted, and Ermyntrude entered 
the big department store. 

"Where shall I find choux?" she asked of an affa- 
ble floorwalker. 

"Third floor, madam; take the elevator." 

On the third floor Ermyntrude again asked direc- 
tions : 

"Where are the choux, please?" 

"Ties?" 

"Why, yes — sort of ties. I suppose. But they're 
called choux. I want black ones." 

"Shoe department, three aisles to the left." 

"Oh, I don't mean that kind." 

"All kinds are there." 

"But I don't mean shoes at all. I mean choux. I 
want black ones and white ones both." 

"You will find all colors in the shoe department." 

"I don't want shoes at all! I want choux, lace 
ones, you know." 

15 



PLEASING PROSE 

"The lace shoes and button shoes are both there, 
madam." 

"Oh, you don't understand me! I want white 
lace choux, ties, you know, and black ones and tan- 
colored and light blue." 

"You'll find the blue among the -evening wear; the 
others are all in the regular shoe department." 

"Oh, have you a regular chou department? I 
didn't suppose there was such a demand for them. 
Now, I only want one of each color." 

"We don't sell them singly, madam." 

"Oh, it's the wholesale department, then. Well, 
where do you retail choux?" 

"It is the retail department, but we sell them only 
in pairs." 

"You don't understand me yet ! I want choux ! 
Choux, not shoes! Just one chou, to wear at the 
back of my neck." 

The floorwalker understood at last. The poor 
young thing was crazy! It was pathetic, but she 
must be removed from the store immediately and 
without creating a commotion. 

"Yes," he said soothingly — "yes, you shall have 
a shoe to wear at the back of your neck, and a mit- 
ten to wear on your left ear, and a cake of soap for a 
breast-pin." 

He had always heard that one must humor the 
vagaries of a lunatic, and he felt proud of his 
achievement when he saw the irate and indignant 
young woman start hastily toward the elevator, lit- 
tle dreaming she was on her way to report him at 
the office. 



i6 



» THE SCIENCE OF SOLISTRY 

THE art of palmistry is familiar to all, but the 
science of solistry, though less well known, is 
interesting in the extreme. 

As long ago as in the Age of Sages the remark 
was made, "Know Thyself," and it is to the school 
of Solon we are indebted for the understanding of 
our Solar System. 

The Immortality of the Sole is a theory advanced 
by Platoe, but his arguments have been contradicted 
by many later footmen. 

Locke, in his treatise On the Human Understand- 
ing, discusses the subject fully and with many foot- 
notes, and Samuel Foote himself cast footlights on 
the subject. 

The palmist may claim to read the true character 
from the lines of the hand, but it is only by solistry 
that the real sole is laid bare and the character of 
those subjects in any walk of life is exposed. 

A short study of the accompanying directions will 
enable anyone to master the subject, and the way- 
faring man, though a fool, need not err therein. 

For our purposes we will consider the foot divided 
into three parts: the separate movable part called 
the toes, the middle part called the sole, and the an- 
terior portion, or heel. It should be remarked that 
the sole is greater than any of its parts. 

If the sole, measured from the roots of the toes 
to the heel, is longer than the middle toe, the sub- 

17 



PLEASING PROSE 

ject is exceedingly well balanced and is an easy-go- 
ing, whole-souled kind of person. If, on the other 
foot, the middle toe is longer than the sole the sub- 
ject is ill balanced and unsteady in his habits. 

A narrow sole indicates a small mind full of preju- 
dice, and with a tendency to commit solecisms. A 
broad sole denotes a large and generous tempera- 
ment and a friendly footing toward all, without dan- 
ger of misunderstandings. 

Indeed, a thorough, broad understanding of hu- 
manity is the foundation of all wisdom and conse- 
quently the base of existence. 

The small mounds or foothills found at the base 
of the toes are designated by solists thus: the 
mound at the base of the great toe, which is called 
the light fantastic toe, because it is found near the 
ball of the foot, is named in honor of Terpsichore. 
This mount is found highly developed in a profes- 
sional danseuse, though she is often known to put 
her whole sole into her dancing. 

The mount at the base of the second toe is called 
the mount of Trilby. This is seen in its fullest de- 
velopment among those who in their efforts to get 
back to nature have formed the habit of going bare- 
foot. 

The mount at the base of the third toe is the 
mount of Atalanta; this of course is most developed 
in all runners, whether running for office or merely 
for pleasure. 

The next mount is that of Cinderella, and the fifth, 
the mount of Mercury. It is supposed that as flying 
machines become of more common use the mount of 
Mercury will be foimd greatly developed on the feet 
of the aeronauts. 

i8 



THE SCIENCE OF SOLISTRY 

The lines of the sole are greatly indicative of 
character. All traits of character must draw the 
line somewhere. 

A line extending from the mount of Trilby to the 
outer side of the sole is the life line. If this line 
appears to be broken it indicates future death. If 
more pronounced on one sole than the other, it im- 
plies that the subject has one foot in the grave. 

The heart line should run from the mount of Ata- 
lanta straight to the ball of the foot. This indicates 
luck at cards ; it is therefore called the Cardiac line. 
The line indirectly below this is the head line. A 
broken headline indicates pugnacity, but a contin- 
uous line denotes a long and level head. 

The line from the mount of Cinderella running 
toward the heel is the clothes line and shows great 
love of dress. The line that crosses this is the fish 
line, and often shows that the subject is incapable 
of telling the truth. 

As Sherlock Holmes deduced much from foot- 
prints, so the occupation of the subject can often 
be determined from the lines of the foot. Thus, the 
line of battle and the line of march are hard lines, 
often calloused, proving the soldier or the tramp. 
In the case of a footpad these lines are not calloused. 
A line-meeting indicates a railroad man. A tow- 
line, a sailor. Solar spots, an astronomer. A well- 
developed foot-ball, a college student. 

In the poetic foot the lines are strongly marked. 
There are many short lines, called Alexandrines, but 
the two types of poetic feet oftenest seen are the 
Iambic and the Trochaic. In poetic feet the heels 
are often in French forms. But the sole of a poet 
is often found on lame and halting feet, of which a 

19 



PLEASING PROSE 

noted example is found in Lord Byron. Again, 
among poets, the right and left feet sometimes vdivy. 
Browning tells us that every man "boasts two sole 
sides." Logically this would seem to preclude a 
poet from having sole mates, but poets are a foot- 
loose class and privileged to poetic license. 

The club foot has long been prevalent among men 
about town, but since the invention of women's 
clubs this deformity is found in both sexes. The 
foot of a timid man often shows no lines at all, for 
the reason that he cannot call his sole his own. 

The mount Achilles is situated in the heel, and is 
found in its greatest development among doctors 
and certain politicians. 

We will conclude this article by a quotation from 
the great pedant, Omar Khayyam, and he who runs 
may read : 

"Why, if the Sole could fling the Dust aside. 
And naked to the Air of Heaven Ride, 
Were't not a Shame, were't not a Shame for him 
In Patent Leather tamely to Abide!" 



ON CRACKING CHERRY-STONES 

IN THIS wicked and ungodly world there are few 
more harmless and yet absorbing pleasures than 
cracking cherry-stones upon the sidewalk. 

It is a pleasure, however, only to the initiate — 
nay, more, only to the analytical and introspective, 
for a thoughtful, reflective temperament is necessary 
to acquire proficiency. 

Your bom devotee of the art will never crack a 
cherry-stone on a wooden pavement; asphalt may 
do, but flagging is best. 

Then the touch. Although intuitive, and not to 
be acquired, yet it may be cultivated and improved 
by study and practice. Only the tyro will throw 
out a tentative foot, hit or miss, blindly groping for 
a stone six inches out of his course. The skilled 
cracker will sight the stone twenty feet away, and 
gradually, almost unconsciously, will shape his 
course and direct his steps so that he cannot avoid 
stepping on it, striking it with the exact spot of his 
sole best calculated to do the deed. 

Not the toe, where a forward push is necessary 
and which makes it a sliding crush; nor too far 
back, which misses it; and, the saints forfend! — not 
with the heel, but a firm, clear pressure with the ball 
of the foot, resulting in a sharp, short cr-r-rk! so 
delicious to the trained ear. Proper shoes, too, must 
be worn; not paper-soled nor too thick, but a shoe 
with a firm, flexible sole not yet worn slippery. 



PLEASING PROSE 

Of course cracking is more fun when one is alone, 
for a companion, unless absolutely in sympathy, 
may object to the deviations from a straight course 
made necessary by the location of the stones. And, 
too, the companion may step on the very stone we 
have had our eye on for half a block. 

To go slowly with downcast eyes, thinking of the 
subject nearest our heart, half-hearing the birds, 
half-seeing the flowers blooming all about, half-feel- 
ing the soft breeze, but wholly conscious of a gleam- 
ing white cherry-stone ahead of us, gives us an 
eager anticipation, the delight of which is only 
equaled by the satisfaction of stepping squarely on 
the stone and hearing its sharp, clear crack. 

Why this is a pleasure is as impossible to tell as 
why we like caviare or Brieux. It may not be ex- 
plained or even adequately described, but the mere 
mention of it is at once recognizable to those who 
have ever experienced it. 

There are not many who know this subtle 
pleasure in all its fullness; there are even some to 
whom it is a sealed book; but the cognoscenti have 
already felt the first pleasurable thrills of a season 
which is all too brief. 



THE YEARS THAT THE LOCUST HATH 
EATEN 

TO BE sure, the locust, in his voracity, has been 
omnivorous, and hath eaten many good and 
great things, and likewise many noxious things that 
we are glad to be well rid of. 

But while devouring his years, he has shown 
some discrimination, and has refrained from swal- 
lowing some monuments of art and architecture, 
which still stand a noble tribute to locustian taste. 

But let us give him his just meed of praise for his 
indefatigable nibbling in our parlors a few decades 
ago. Ah, the nimble fingers of the housemother and 
her young lady daughters flew fast, but the open- 
mouthed locust followed fast and followed faster, 
and in due time their handicraft became the locust's 
commissariat. Creeping through the darkened par- 
lor, with what gusto he ate up the worsted-worked 
motto, ay, even its black-walnut rustic frame! 

He must have had a surfeit, for the shaded zephyr 
sentiments proclaimed from every kalsomined wall 
that there was No Place Like Home, and that The 
Lord would Provide. A lighter diet came to the 
locust with the air-castles, made of bristles culled 
from the lowly pig, and adorned, like the Toeless 
Pobble, with minute scraps of scarlet flannel. These 
marvels were swung from the folding-door frame, 
and attracted admiration from callers and flies of ar- 
tistic taste. 

23 



PLEASING PROSE 

Other air-castles soon replaced them, aerial won-,^, 
ders of Bristol-board cubes, dangling in complicated 
multiplicity from chenille loops. 

Then the throws! Airy scarfs, these, made of 
China silk and bolting-cloth, like as not, hand- 
painted ; edged with frail and twisty silk tassels, and 
apparently carelessly tossed over the comer of a 
white-framed etching or a marble mantelpiece. If 
the latter, they were held in place by one of the 
two plumed and swash-buckling bronze gentlemen 
who guarded the ends of the mantel. Well, the 
locust ate these up, and then tackled the felt tidies 
and lambrequins decked with crewel-worked cattails 
and sunflowers. Usually these delicacies were 
adorned with ribbons of old gold or olive, invariably 
combined with light blue. Ah, the locust then had 
his fill of esthetic color! 

Next must he engage upon a myriad milking- 
stools that suddenly sprang into being, like toad- 
stools after rain. They were gilded, hand-painted 
with flowers, and bebowed with broad satin ribbon. 
With these he relished home-made tambourines of 
painted satin ; and rich plush banners flung upon the 
inner walls, showing floral designs of which the 
medium used was narrow ribbon threaded into a 
needle; here, too, he choked down macrame lace 
brackets and darned lace tidies. Pausing to eat a 
sudden shower of rick-rack, which descended like 
manna, he attacked heavier food. 

He forced himself to a diet of Rogers's groups; 
he avidly ate up the stereoscopes, and the bounte- 
ous harvest of wax fruit and flowers. Nor did he 
omit a large comer bracket made of leather grapes 
and leaves, thickly powdered with dust. Then fol- 

24 



THE YEARS THAT THE LOCUST HATH EATEN 

lowed the fruit-pieces and game-pieces from the 
dining-room walls, and the crayon portraits on 
ebonized easels. 

Getting a taste for pictures, he consumed "Wide- 
Awakes" and "Fast Asleeps" in enormous quanti- 
ties, also "Rocks of Ages," "Alone at Lasts," and 
"Wait for Mes," But supplies poured in, and he 
must needs swallow tile-pipe umbrella stands, 
stamp-plates, statuettes of "The Diver," hammered- 
brass plaques in plush frames and tables made of 
onyx, of felt-covered wooden-washstands, or of a 
cheese-box cover and three broomsticks, which the 
Midas of fashion had turned to gold. 

Then came a flashing swirl of umbrella silk lamp- 
shades, like the ruffled skirts of a chorus-girl, fol- 
lowed by a whirlwind of tissue paper ones, similarly 
made, at less cost. 

And is the poor locust now allowed to diet a lit- 
tle? Nay, not so ; but far otherwise. Having eaten 
up ping-pong and picture puzzles, having finished 
the hand-painted china and art pottery, the limp, 
suede-covered books and iridescent glass vases, he 
stowed away the burned wood and burned leather, 
and then turned to crape paper. He is now nib- 
bling at old brass and copper jorums, and other 
Twenty-second Street excavations, and is about to 
turn to a feast of cretonne inutilities and cross-stitch 
embroidery. Incidentally, while thus ridding our 
parlor of dire and devastating influences, the friendly 
locust hath likewise rid us of the parlor! 

He has left us the living-room, the library, the 
music-room, but we acknowledge gratefully that the 
parlor, with its repelling sanctuary atmosphere, be^ 
longs to the years that the locust hath eaten. 

25 



A LOVERS' QUARREL 

OH, KITTY, you are so sweet, and I do love you 
so. Tell me you love me, dearie." 

"I do love you Dick; why, I never supposed I 
could love anybody so much." 

"Oh, little girl, I only wish you loved me half as 
much as I love you." 

"Half as much ! "Why, dear, I love you more than 
you love me — a great deal more" — 

"Now, don't be silly, pet. It would be impossible 
for you to love me as much as I love you. Of 
course, I love you best." 

"Of course you don't ! You love me, I know, but 
not as much as I love you." 

"Now, Kitty, be reasonable." 

"I will if you'll admit that I do love you best." 

"How can I admit what isn't true?" 

"Well, you might say it was so just to please me." 

"Oh, no, dear, I can't do that." 

"Because you don't love me enough !" 

"Oh, the idea !" 

"If you did love me best you'd say anything I 
asked you to, whether it was true or not." 

"Would you do that?" 

"Of course I would." 

"All right, then you admit that I love you best, 
because I ask you to do so!" 

"Oh, Dick, how horrid you are ! How can you be 
so cruel to me?" 

26 



A LOVERS' QUARREL 

"There, there, don't cry. I'll admit that you love 
me best, but I only admit it because you ask me to." 

"Then that's all right." 

"But, don't you see, Kitty, when I say that be- 
cause you ask me to, and you won't say it when I 
ask you to, that proves I love you best after all." 

"There you go again ! I do think you're too mean 
for anything!" 

"Well, never mind, sweetheart, let's kiss and be 
friends. You do love me best I'm sure." 

"Oh, no, I don't, Dick. Oh, you are so sweet. 
You love me best, darling." 

"Oh, no I don't, love. You love me best !" 

"No, my Dick, you love me best " 



27 



CITY TIPS, OR A GUIDE TO GOTHAM 

AUTOMOBILE. — A machine used by the 
classes for the overthrow and crushing out of 
the masses. An efficacious instrument of race homi- 
cide. 

Automatic Slot Machines, — A modern invention 
to facilitate the speedy parting of a fool and his 
money. 

Broadway. — So-called because it is the narrowest 
street in the city. It is bounded on the south by the 
Flatiron Building and on the north by the Hotel 
Astor. The Broadwayward inhabitants are skilled 
in the painless extraction of visitors' funds, in which 
proceeding they are adept and expeditious. (See 
suburban timetables.) 

Boss. — (See Intelligence Office.) 

Children. — Obsolete term. 

Coffee Exchange. — A Diet Dispensary, where the 
injurious and death-dealing coffee-berry may be ex- 
changed for a wholesome package of Browned 
Beans, or Ground Bread Crumbs. 

Coal and Iron Exchange. — A most convenient in- 
stitution for those who wish to exchange their coal 
for iron, or vice versa. 

Cathedral of St. John. — A noble example of archi- 
tecture. As yet only the first syllable has been 
erected. 

Cheap Skates. — (See Five and Ten Cent Store.) 
28 



CITY TIPS, OR A GUIDE TO GOTHAM 

Coney Island. — Indescribable. (See Coney Island.) 

Diana. — A celebrated statue representing the 
acme of high art. 

Fine Arts. — New York City is well up in fine arts. 
Many lady artists have studios of their own, where 
they hand-paint pictures and keep a gas stove. 
There are also shops where one may buy lovely 
burnt-leather things, and hand-painted calendars. 

Fishing.— Take N. Y. C. & H. R. R. to the Ad- 
irondacks. Here fine trout fishing can be had (i. e., 
may be had, or should be had). Or, take the Cross 
Country Limited to San Francisco, and then to 
Portland, Ore., for splendid salmon fishing. Or 
Southern Railroad to Florida for tarpon and alli- 
gators. 

Fishing Clubs. — (See Ananias.) 

The Hippodrome. — This word is derived from 
the Greek hippo, a horse, and drome, past participle 
of dream; therefore, a horse dream (if nightmare). 
A description of this institution is impossible, as the 
largest adjectives in the English language are not as 
large as the Hippodrome. (See the show.) 

House of Detention. — The exchange desk of a 
department store. 

Hot Air Fund. — An appropriation for defraying 
the expenses of campaign committees. 

Hospital. — (See appendix.) 

Library. — A background for a pair of marble her- 
aldic animals, and a pair of flagpoles. 

Long Island. — A sound proposition. 

Long Branch. — (Forget it.) 

Oyster Cocktail. — A combination of hot and pep- 
pery ingredients, resulting in biting sauce. 

Oyster Bay. — (Ditto.) 

29 



PLEASING PROSE 

Places of Interest. — Savings banks. 

Peach Crop. — (See a comic opera.) 

Roof Gardens. — Gardens where they raise the 
roof. 

Stuffed Club. — The Millionaires' Club. 

School for Designing Young Women. — An insti- 
tution for the instruction of young women in all 
kinds of designing. (An unnecessary industry.) 

Sanitary Drinking Fountains, — A necessary evil. 

Suffragettes. — An unnecessary evil. 

Theatres. — (See all the attractions.) 

Intermissions. — (See a man.) 

Turkish Baths. — These are given free in the Sub- 
way trains and in the Grand Central Tunnel. 

Tubes. — Contrivances for the transportation of 
Rubes to and from the city. 

Tenderloin. — A tough district. 

Union Market. — (See Matrimonial Bureau.) 

Woman's Exchange. — (See Divorce Court.) 

Wall Street. — The abode of the Brokers and the 
Broke. 



30 



MENDACITY AS A FINE ART 

IT IS a curious and interesting study as one grows 
older to look back upon the time-honored lies of 
one's childhood, and remember the calm air of verity 
with which they were told and believed. 

They say that the kindergarten movement is 
striving to change all this; but, though the result 
may be a wiser and better platform of child instruc- 
tion, one cannot help feeling a thrill at the icono- 
clasm which shatters the classic falsehoods of our 
nursery days. 

Who does not remember glorious visions of curl- 
ing hair that was to be the inevitable consequence of 
eating crusts? In no other way would the consump- 
tion of those hard and unpalatable morsels have 
been anything but the veriest torture; but with a 
positive assurance of the ensuing crop of golden 
curls that would replace the straight tow locks, the 
crusts were as delectable as honey from Olympus. 

Another thrilling announcement was that soap 
would make our eyes bright. With a valor and 
bravery surpassing that of the historic Spartan boy, 
we have grimly endured most fearful ocular smart- 
ings at our toilet, upheld by the thought of the 
brilliant and sparkling orbs that should eventually 
be ours. How should we know that the primal 
cause of this, to us, natural law was simply a subter- 
fuge to justify the careless performance of the ma- 
ternal bathing hand? 

31 



PLEASING PROSE 

Often when an extra complement of guests caused 
a dearth of chairs we stood until our weary legs 
ached; yet valiantly, forsooth, for more upholding 
than any crutch was the authoritative knowledge 
that a standing posture was greatly conducive to 
growth. Noble visions of tall, broad specimens of 
the human form divine danced before our blinking 
eyes, and made standing a joy and delight. 

Then the valuable information that the sweetest 
meat was nearest the bone, and that the best part of 
the apple grew next to the core! Such conviction 
was carried by these often repeated statements that 
our childish mind recognized at once the superior 
flavor of the portions in question, and eagerly de- 
spatched the less desirable parts that we might 
sooner reach the delicious tidbit. No base suspicion 
sullied the clear crystal of our confiding infantile 
minds that we were the victims of the basest bribery 
and corruption. Little did we guess that it was 
merely a ruse on the part of our thrifty and econom- 
ical parents to insure our utilization of all that was 
edible in our food ! 

More glitteringly specious, and therefore a more 
heinous crime to look back upon, was the promise 
that he who ate the most porridge should have the 
most pudding. The child mind, though logical, is 
not often capable of detecting a fallacy, and the fact 
that this sliding scale of operation would work auto- 
matically against our own interests never occurred 
to us until too late. 

Although reprehensible, the old-fashioned lies, it 
must be admitted, were as a rule efficacious. 

Probably ninety-nine portraits out of a hundred 
taken of children in lately-past generations show a 

32 



MENDACITY AS A FINE ART 

photographic reproduction of confident anticipation 
of seeing a little bird fly out. Without that fabulous 
little bird many of those pictures could never have 
been taken, and as they have reasons for being, 
quite apart from their artistic value, it may be that 
our mendacious parents were justified in doing evil 
that good might come. 



THE EASTER PARADE 

THE days of the Easter Parade are numbered. 
This sapient remark has been made annually 
for many years, but it meant nothing. 

Wise ones said, "Oh, women don't don new hats 
on Easter Sunday nowadays, as they used to," and 
then the shops full of beflowered confections would 
be transferred to feminine heads, and they'd make 
an initial appearance on Easter Sunday as always. 

Wise ones also said, "The Easter crowd on Fifth 
Avenue is nothing to what it used to be !" and then, 
if the sun shines on Easter Sunday, the grand old 
street is packed as ever with a millineried multi- 
tude. 

But aside and apart from these considerations, the 
days of the Easter Parade are numbered, because 
the occasion is soon to be supplemented by another 
Parade Day. 

As soon as the suffragists have completed a few 
unfinished details, the franchise will come to women, 
and then — ^who doubts it? — Election Day will be 
Parade Day! 

It is a foregone conclusion that Election Day will 
be changed from November to some spring date 
(not inappropriately, April first). 

Then Easter hats and Easter costumes will be a 
forgotten issue, and a whole year's energies and 
planning will result in Election hats and Election 

34 



THE EASTER PARADE 

gowns. Wide scope will be allowed. For those 
who prefer it, stunning morning costumes and smart 
tailored hats will be de rigueur for voting before 
noon. 

Afternoon balloting will give occasion for a grand 
display of rich apparel that shall sow seeds of envy, 
hatred and malice in all feminine hearts. And the 
evening! But who can picture the glories of Elec- 
tion night after women can vote? 

No closing of the polls at six o'clock then! 
Women know the effect of evening costumes, and 
instead of the horrid horn-tooting, feather-tickling 
crowds that now make Election night hideous, there 
will be streets full of people remindful of the audi- 
ence that emerges after a special opera perform- 
ance. 

The polling booths will vie in comfort and luxury 
with the new ocean liners. Probably the booths will 
be built entirely of glass, so that no detail of the 
voter's costume may be lost upon the waiting ones 
outside. 

The ballots will be deckel-edged, hand-painted af- 
fairs, and exclusive women will doubtless have indi- 
vidual or personal ballots, as they have Christmas 
cards nowadays. Or, if a woman choose, she can 
have her ballot designed to match her costume. 

Voting parties will be a popular form of entertain- 
ment, when, after a delightful luncheon or dinner, 
the guests will be taken in decorated motor cars to 
the polls. 

Ah, yes, the coming glories of Election Day will 
obliterate even the memory of our so-called Easter 
Parade. And doubtless the women's Committee of 
Arrangements will decide to have the date fall upon 

35 



PLEASING PROSE 

the first pleasant Tuesday after the first clear Mon- 
day in May, which will eliminate the awful uncer- 
tainty of weather that always hangs about Easter 
Sunday. 



36 



THE AGE OF COMMON SENSE 

WE ARE told that, whether the trend of mod- 
em usage be toward making the world 
better or worse, it's at least in the direction of com- 
mon sense. By way of subscribing to this theory, 
we wish to call attention to the grand display of 
common sense shown in the choice of human garb. 
A man wears a costume of thick, unwieldy material, 
which is ugly to the sight, ugly to the touch, and 
whose rough, woolly surface forms a permanent trap 
for dust, dirt, and microbes. His ridiculous shirt 
bosom, far more unyielding than a coat of mail, 
keeps him in terror lest he break or soil it. Round 
his neck and wrists he wears contraptions of the 
same degree of comfort as a convict's handcuffs and 
equally hampering. Round his collar is tied a bit of 
foolish-colored silk, with spots or stripes, absurdly 
out of harmony with the rest of his get-up. His hat 
is the most uncomfortable piece of mechanism that 
can be devised, and constricts his forehead into red 
furrows — or else blows off. 

A woman, after a foundation rigging of unbeliev- 
able discomfort, dons a garb of salt-sack proportions, 
but with tight collar, tight sleeves, tight bodice, 
and tight skirt. She wears tight shoes, with stilt- 
like heels, tight gloves, and a tightly drawn veil. 
Her coiffure takes on an added discomfort with each 
new style, and her hatpins, when in use, are instru- 

37 



PLEASING PROSE 

ments of torture. As to her hat — but no feminine 
hat, whatever may or may not be its absurdity, can 
get as far from common sense as a man's top hat or 
derby. 

A woman, with necessity for carrying handker- 
chiefs, gloves, powder puffs, samples, recipes, memo- 
randa, fans, glove buttoners, visiting cards, and a 
thousand and one such things, has no pockets. A 
man, with nothing to carry but a jackknife and a 
roll of bills, has seventeen. A woman, with a hat 
brim twelve inches wide, carries a parasol; a man, 
with a hat brim an inch wide, carries none. A 
woman, who uses her handkerchief for every con- 
ceivable purpose, from dusting off the hall table to 
washing baby's face, has a cobwebby trifle, eight 
inches square. A man, who uses his only for its de- 
clared purpose, has a square yard of good cambric. 

A woman, though her head be well thatched with 
hair — and re-enforced at that — need not take off her 
hat when talking to a friend in the street. A man, 
with a few sparse spears or perhaps none, must 
do so and thereby risk pneumonia. 

Every man desires to be of tall stature, yet never 
would he add a lift to his low boot heels. A woman, 
beloved often because petite, elevates herself on 
four-inch heels. 

Yea, verily, it is the era of common sense, thus 
evinced by the rational garments on the human form 
divine ! 



38 



LITTLE-FINGER CROOKERS 

LITTLE-FINGER CROOKING is the outward 
and visible sign of an ostentatious soul. 

The lines of a palm may be uncertain and mislead- 
ing, but the crook of a little finger is a positive indi- 
cation of the nature of its owner. 

And, first, it denotes deceitfulness. The crooked 
little finger is more often seen on women than men, 
and this is because a larger proportion of the fair 
sex have deceitful natures. 

The woman, then, who raises her teacup with 
what she believes to be an elegant curve of her lit- 
tle finger is trying to impress those who see her 
with the idea that hers is a refined and cultured na- 
ture. But the deceit is proved by the fact that this 
same woman seldom crooks her little finger in the 
privacy of her own room. This, therefore, proves 
that the crooking is not the natural result of refine- 
ment and culture, but a specious and flimsy pre- 
tense. Why it is accepted among those of the cult 
as a sign of good birth and breeding is a mystery 
indeed; for it has never yet been observed among 
the truly aristocratic. But it is so accepted, and it 
stands for veneering of all sorts. 

If a woman is not quite sure of her position, her 
gown or her pronunciation, she crooks her little 
finger as she raises her bediamonded lorgnette, and 
fondly fancies all her shortcomings are overlooked. 

39 



PLEASING PROSE 

As a rule, the little-finger crookers are of those 
who sadly abuse the word "artistic." To them, any- 
thing bizarre or esthetic is "artistic." A burnt- 
leather photograph frame, a draped fishnet or a 
Bagdad burlap is enthusiastically dubbed with the 
poor overworked adjective. 

And then, with a smile of superiority, they curve 
their little fingers and sip tea with the air of a con- 
noisseur. 

Deep and careful research has failed to discover 
the origin of the crooking habit. The only possible 
presumption is that it is a relic of barbarism, and 
that there was a time when only the great had cups 
to drink from. These few, to protect themselves 
from their envious and covetous brethren, stuck out 
their little fingers to ward off possible assaults upon 
their porcelain property. 

Be that as it may, the crooking of the modern 
little finger apparently stands for a buffer against 
the assaults upon a fragile and easily demolished re- 
finement. 



40 



A TONGUE TWISTER 

YES, I'll tell you all about it, John, dear. You 
see, I was in such haste, and I just flew 
through the gate and flung my ticket to the tocket 
chipper ." 

"There, there! Don't talk so fast, little woman; 
you mean the chicket topper." 

"Ha, ha! You're as bad as I am! Of course I 
mean the chocket tipper." 

"Well, what's the matter with you? Go on, you 
flung your ticket to the toppet chicker." 

"The chippet tocker " 

"The tippet chocker " 

"The choppet ticker " 

"Oh, the dickens! Next time do take a surface 
car!" 



41 



EVE'S TUTORS 

NOW, in her younger days, Eve was quite con- 
tent to be Adam's Little Know-Nothing. 
She was the same sort of child-wife as Dora Cop- 
perfield, only she didn't call her husband Doady. 

Adam, being a man, well liked her to be that way, 
and loved her for her docile, trusting, adoring na- 
ture. He didn't want a Cultured Highbrow or a 
Suffragette for his mate ; he wanted the gentle, ig- 
norant little girl that was bestowed upon him. 

And Eve loved Adam most exceedingly; she de- 
ferred to him always, with a pleasant meekness, and 
desired greatly to learn knowledge of him. But, of a 
truth, Adam was all unable to teach her many of 
the traits she wished to acquire ; and much lore that 
she could have welcomed, he was at a loss or un- 
willing to impart to her. 

So Eve wandered about the Garden of Eden and 
pondered right mournfully on the vastness of her 
ignorance and her woeful lack of worldly wisdom. 
And, as she strolled, there came and strutted by her 
side a great Peacock, dignified, yet flaunting of mien 
and vastly beautiful. 

"How wonderful you are!" said Eve, admiringly; 
"I am not of such beauty." 

"You are beautiful," returned the Peacock, "but 
you are ignorant." 

"Too true," wailed Eve, in most sad accents. 

42 



EVE'S TUTORS 

"But I have no Tutors to tute me. How may I 
acquire worldly wisdom in this Garden?" 

"There are many Tutors about, Oh, Eve !" replied 
the Peacock; "but you fail to recognize them as 
such. Many of the creatures in this Garden have 
traits and knowledge, which, learned by you, would 
be of inestimable value to you; and, so, to woman- 
kind forever." 

Eve's eyes sparkled, and her countenance grew 
bright in anticipation of this coveted knowledge that 
might yet be hers. 

"Explain, Oh, Peacock !" she begged of the beau- 
tiful bird. 

"I, myself, will teach you vanity," he responded, 
and he proudly flaunted his gorgeous plumage be- 
fore her eyes. "Vanity is one of the most useful 
studies in a woman's curriculum. Be vain and you 
will be happy. Be convinced of your own beauty 
and you have already convinced others of it. Be 
vain of your own accomplishments and you have 
already forced men to admire them, and women to 
be jealous of them. Vanity produces little arts and 
graces hitherto undreamed of ; it makes you charm- 
ing, alluring and altogether desirable." 

The Peacock twisted his neck proudly, and the 
sun touched with gold the blue-green sheen. 

"I am accounted beautiful, yes," he went on; 
"but mostly am I so accounted because I am vain 
of my beauty. Vanity brings haughtiness, scornful 
demeanor and supercilious ways, all of which are 
useful, even indispensable, to the worldly-wise 
woman." 

Now, Eve was of a fine receptiveness, and the 
words of the Peacock fell on fertile soil. Vain she 

43 



PLEASING PROSE 

became at once. Proud of her own beauty, she 
twined her long tresses w^ith wild flowers, and 
stuck poppies coquettishly over her ears. She chose 
the finest and best shaped fig leaves for her new 
apron, and bordered it with a fringe of bright blos- 
soms. 

Vanity became an ineradicable trait of her nature, 
and she besought Adam for extravagant expressions 
of admiration. 

Adam, poor man, was a bit bewildered. He had 
never seen a vain woman before, and he didn't 
quite know how to treat one. He did his best to 
please her, and at last he exclaimed in baffled aston- 
ishment : "Why, you're as vain as a Peacock !" 

Then was Eve full content, for what more may 
one ask than to equal one's teacher? 

Next, turned she to the Tiger for enlightenment 
and wisdom. 

"My child, you have much to learn," said the 
great beast, looking benevolently from 'neath 
shaggy brows at the beautiful woman, 

"Vain you are, but other feminine traits should 
be yours. Learn, then, of me. Acquire my soft, 
velvet-padded caress, which yet conceals sharp 
claws. Acquire my purring, indolent manner, 
which only masks a most alert attention. Learn my 
stealthy, secret mode of approach, even while all 
prepared for a sudden, deadly spring. This is the 
spirit of the lore I would teach you." 

Readily, Eve understood. Even the treachery of 
the Tiger's nature was imparted to her, and stored 
away in her waking brain for the use of the Eternal 
Feminine, 

Then came a Lamb, gamboling. 
44 



EVE'S TUTORS 

"Oh, pshaw, Tiger!" called the Lamb, gaily; 
"you're teaching Eve too much of your deceitful na- 
ture. Look here, Madam Eve; Man admires in 
woman the meekness and playfulness of the Lamb. 
A merry gentleness and docility doth at times please 
him greatly." 

"Teach me," said Eve, tranquilly. "All of these 
things I fain would learn, that I may use them at 
my discretion." 

So, from the Lamb, learned Eve all gentleness 
and docility of manner which, of a truth, well be- 
came her. 

Now, when that Eve exploited these newly ac- 
quired traits in her home, the house cat looked at 
her critically. 

"Much hast thou learned, Oh, Eve!" she spake, 
oracularly ; "but more yet can I teach thee." 

So Eve learned from the cat. 

She acquired an elusiveness that was most tan- 
talizing. She learned to walk away when called, 
and to sidle up unexpectedly. She learned to select 
the best seat, and she learned thoroughly the vice of 
curiosity. She acquired slyness, secret vindictive- 
ness, and other catty attributes, which she stored 
away in her brain against the time when there 
should be other women in the world. 

And more yet learned Eve. Of the Donkey, she 
acquired a fine stubbornness (this she determined 
to use with great moderation, but with decided 
effect). 

From the Hen she learned domestic science, and 
a certain very feminine quality known as hen-mind- 
edness. From the Chameleon she discovered how 
to take color from her surroundings, which is a 

45 



PLEASING PROSE 

fine art. Even the Crocodile taught her a pretty 
trick. 

"Eve," said he, "weeping is a great thing to un- 
derstand. Not for a real sorrow — such tears need 
no teaching. But tears for a purpose are among a 
woman's best weapons, in the unequal fight she 
must wage against men. It's mighty handy to be 
able to shed tears at will." 

Eve greatly thanked the kind Crocodile, and soon 
learned to perfection the art of letting her beautiful 
eyes fill with big tears, and then rolling them in 
pearly drops slowly down her pink cheeks. 

Now, the Serpent was more subtle than any beast 
of the field. And when that the others, of their 
love, had taught Eve much, then glided to her the 
Serpent and finished her education. He imparted 
to her the secrets of his sinuous grace, his mysteri- 
ous, insinuating charm, and his persuasive and fas- 
cinating allurement. So, Eve learned the wisdom of 
the Serpent, and now was she wise indeed. Of such 
a wisdom was she that she tempted Adam ; and by 
the inheritance of her wisdom, the daughters of Eve 
have ever possessed Knowledge, Wisdom and 
Power all unparalleled by that of man. 



46 



THE STRIKE OF THE OLD JOKES 

THE Editor was blithely signing checks when he 
was interrupted by a knock at the door — not 
the timorous, faint-hearted knock of a would-be con- 
tributor, but an ominous, reverberating knock, full 
of power and dramatic effect. 

"Come in," said the Editor, a little uncertainly, 
for he had never heard a knock like that before. 

A horde of creatures burst into the room. They 
were angry and uproarious, and as they carried ban- 
ners with threatening legends on them, any one 
could deduce at once that they were Strikers. 

Also, which they were. 

The leader of the band was the old Mother-in- 
Law Joke. Ragged and weary, the overworked old 
Joke leaned heavily on a staff as she spoke. 

"We are here, Mr. Editor, to claim our rights. 
We are a band of overworked, underpaid Jokes, and 
we demand shorter hours and better wages !" 

"Hear, hear!" "We do! We do!" cried all the 
other Strikers, and the Cook Joke and Tramp Joke 
waxed belligerent and shook their fists at the not 
unfrightened Editor. 

"Me, too," piped up the Gentle Spring Joke. "I'm 
only on duty at one season of the year, but at that 
time I'm so overworked that I have nervous pros- 
tration the rest of the year." 

"Just my case," sighed the Moving-Day Joke, and 
the Summer Girl Joke said : 

47 



PLEASING PROSE 

"I'm like that, too." 

"And so," went on the Mother-in-Law Joke, 
"we've struck!" 

"In other words," interrupted the Cook Joke, 
"we're givin' notice, an' we're goin' to lave !" 

"Unless our demands are met," said the Young 
Bride Housekeeper Joke. 

"And wh-what are your d-de-demands?" gasped 
the Editor, who foresaw a dreadful siege ahead of 
him. 

"These are our demands," declared the Getting- 
Home-Late-from-the-Club Joke. "As one of the 
oldest, most overworked, and poorest paid of the 
Strikers, I will announce our demands. We want 
assurance that each of us shall not appear in print 
in the same periodical more than three times in each 
issue. We want an entire vacation of two weeks 
each year. We want to be paid for at the rates 
given for jokes on new subjects. And we want 
guaranty that we shall be read ! Then, every seven 
years we each want a whole year's vacation, agree- 
ing, however, that we shall not all take this year at 
the same time." 

"A wh-whole year!" gasped the Editor. 

"Yes," said the Sweet Girl Graduate Joke; "this 
rule obtains in our colleges, and shall not the face- 
tious Deans and Professors fare as well as the 
Academic?" 

"But," said the Editor, "any humorous paper 
would fail — would at once cease to exist, — if it were 
obliged to lose any or all of you for a whole year !" 

"Be that as it may," said the Mother-in-Law Joke, 
"we have made up our minds. Accede to our re- 

48 



THE STRIKE OF THE OLD JOKES 

quests, or we cease work at once; and where are 
your humorous papers, then?" 

The Editor thought deeply for a moment. He 
was a right-spirited man, and he could not bring 
himself tamely to submit to these unconscionable 
demands. 

"No!" he thundered, banging his fist down upon 
his be-inked desk. "No! I will not submit! Do 
your worst! I defy you! I have Strike-Breakers 
at hand. We will run our papers without your help. 
Go!" 

His majestic figure towered above the baffled and 
flabbergasted old Jokes. They had not expected 
this! Even the little old Dog and Sausage Joke 
yelped helplessly. 

Then another door opened, and the Editor's aides 
came bounding in. 

They were Modern Jokes — Motor Jokes, Aero- 
plane Jokes, Suffragette Jokes, Divorce Jokes, Wom- 
en's Club Jokes, Slashed Skirt Jokes, Bridge Jokes — 
ah, surely these could hold their own against the 
old and decrepit Strikers. 

They looked good; they were young, fresh and 
active. They could stand years of hard work, and 
their pay-rates were large at present. 

Ah, there was the rub ! At present ! 

As the Editor gazed at them, he knew they were 
a short-lived race. Already many of their number 
had died a natural death. Where was the Theatre 
Hat Joke? The Bicycle Joke? The Ping-Pong 
Joke? The North Pole Joke? The Picture-puzzle 
Joke? All dead! The Sheath Skirt Joke? Dead, 
too. And the Hobble-Skirt Joke was, so to speak, 
on its last legs! No, clearly, these modern Jokes 

49 



PLEASING PROSE 

hadn't the stability, the wearing qualities, of the 
kind our fathers used to make. 

It would not do! No so-called humorous paper 
could live a day without these old stand-bys. 

And so the Editor, — upright and honorable man 
though he was, — promised the old Jokes they should 
have all their demands granted, and more, too, if 
they would but remain, as always, the prop and stay, 
the bone and sinew, of our funny Funny Papers. 



50 



AT THE ORATORIO 

JET EARDROPS— Oh, my, we're late, aren't we? 
I do hate to push past the people in the seats, 
they're so disagreeable! Where's the usher any- 
way? 

Usher — Checks, please. 

Sable Stole — Here they are — ^three in the second 
row. Oh ! isn't that music fine ! 

Alto Voice — Oh, thou that tellest good tidings 

Angel Child — Muth-uh! where are you? I can't 
see the way. 

Usher — This way. Kindly be silent, ladies. 

Chorus— Oh, thou that tellest 

Jet Eardrops — Yes, we must pass! Beg pardon! 
oh, excuse me, there, Gwennie, sit down! 

Angel Child — Muth-uh, I've dropped my muff, 
and 

Usher — Little girl, you must not talk ! 

Chorus — Oh, thou that tellest 

Angel Child — I can't get my hat off ! It's pinned 
— ouch ! 

Lady in Row Behind — Hush-sh-sh! 

Chorus — Unto us a son is bom. 

Angel Child — Oh, muth-uh! we've got that rec- 
ord! Haven't we? 

Man in Row in Front — Hush-sh-sh ! 

Jet Eardrops — Haven't you a program? Usher! 
Usher ! 

51 



PLEASING PROSE 

Usher — Madame, you must not talk! It amioys 
the whole audience! 

Jet Eardrops — Well, we want programs — ^three. 

Angel Child — Yes, one for me! One for me! 

Lady in Row Behind — Hush, little girl, hush ! 

Sable Stole — Oh, what timbre! Fine! 

Chorus — Wonderful — Counselor 

Sable Stole — Remind me, Gwennie, after the per- 
formance to go to Tiffany's. I want to exchange 
that silver syrup jug I got on Christmas for a 

Jet Eardrops — Oh, are you going to exchange 
that? Why, Aunt Maria sent it, and 

Sable Stole — I know she did, but, — oh, that's the 
Pastoral Symphony! Isn't it grand? Can't you just 
see the Shepherds sitting around — ^yes, if I change 
it 

Angel Child — Muth-uh! I've dropped my ring! 
(Gets down under the seat.) 

Lady in Row Behind — Oh, what a commotion! 
Can't you keep that child still a minute? 

Sable Stole (angrily) — I guess she can look for 
her ring! Have you found it, dear? 

Angel Child (crying loudly) — No, Mummy! I 
can't find it, and it's my new Christmas ring that 
Uncle 

Chorus — How beautiful upon the mountains 



Angel Child (sobbing) — Uncle Benny gave it 

Man in Row Ahead — Hush! Sh! I say Usher, 
can't you 

Chorus — Why do the Nations so furiously 
rage 

Man in Row Ahead — I should think they would! 
Usher, can't you 

Angel Child — Oh, Muth-uh, I remember now ! I 
52 



AT THE ORATORIO 

didn't wear my ring at all ! I left it — Say, Muth-uh, 
why don't they have candy slot things on the backs 
of these seats? They do at the Hippodrome, and I 
want 

Chorus — Dash them in pieces like a potter's 
vessel 

Man in Row Ahead (savagely) — I'd like to dash 
something 

Jet Eardrops — ^Well, if you're going to change 
that syrup jug, I believe I'll change that butter dish 
she sent me 

Chorus— Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 

Sable Stole — Yes, do ! It's a fright. I think 



Angel Child — I want some candy, I do — I do 

Chorus — Forever — and ever-r and ever-r and 
ever 

Jet Eardrops^ — Isn't that orchestration simply 

Usher — Ladies, unless you stop talking, I 
must 

Angel Child — I want an ice cream soda, Muth-uh. 
Can't we go out of here? 

Chorus — The trumpet shall sound 

Sable Stole — Yes, let's go. The soloists aren't 
very good anyway. The coloratura work of that 
soprano is 

Jet Eardrops — I think so, too. Let's go down to 
Tiffany's before it gets dark. (They bustle out.) 

Usher — Thank goodness 

Chorus — Hallelujah — Hallelujah. 



53 



A METROPOLITAN GUIDE-BOOK AND 
DICTIONARY OF LATER NEW YORK 

ACCIDENT — In case you are run over by an 
automobile or a trolley car, ask the nearest 
policeman to take you to a drug-store. Do not 
worry about the chauffeur or the motorman; they 
will look out for themselves. 

Ambulance — In case you are run over by an am- 
bulance, jump in. 

Apartment Houses — Tenements in which flats 
conceal themselves under assumed names. 

Art Galleries — (See Europe.) 

Ashes — (See Street Cleaning Department, or tele- 
phone to them.) 

Battery, The — A shady part of Manhattan Island. 
(See Assault and Battery.) 

Beaver Street — One of the first streets laid out in 
the city. In 1650 it was called the Beaver Graft, 
but since then graft has been transferred further 
uptown. 

Blackwell's Island — One of the city's waterside 
resorts to which New Yorkers frequently go for an 
outing. The residences on the Island are large and 
imposing, and the majority are handsomely built of 
granite, in a feudal style of architecture. The resi- 
dents are people of strong character and conserva- 
tive in their habits, though occasionally they let 
themselves go. Those whose achievements entitle 

54 



A METROPOLITAN GUIDE-BOOK 

them to a sojourn on the Island may receive free 
passes and transportation, and many are admitted 
on the strength of their convictions. 

Bowery, The — As its name implies, this is a shady 
lane, in which green things appear and are wel- 
comed with delight. 

Breweries — There are eighty-nine breweries in 
New York City, and more are in process of construc- 
tion. (See W. C. T. U.) 

Bridges — New York has two kinds of bridge — 
the Brooklyn Bridge and Bridge Whist. Patrons of 
both experience moments of great suspense. The 
total expense of each is about the same. 

Broadway — Broadway is divided into two parts, 
day and night. Except on cloudy or stormy days, 
one part is as bright and light as the other. 

Bronx Park — A large farm in the outlying district 
to the north, where a Zoo is said to exist. By the 
time you have found it, it will be time to return 
home — unless you went the week before. 

Brooklyn — The support for the other end of the 
Bridge. 

Concerts — The name under which theatrical per- 
formances are given on Sunday. 

Consuls — Officials whom it is proper to consult, 
if you are a foreigner. They will refer you to the 
Police, who will in turn refer you to the Charitable 
Societies, who will refer you to the Police, who will 
refer you to the Consuls, who will advise you to 
consult a lawyer. 

Cook's Tours — (See Intelligence Offices.) 

Costumes — (See Churches.) 

Daughters of the Revolution — A society of the 
feminine descendants of Revolutionary patriots. 

55 



PLEASING PROSE 

Daughters of the American Revolution — An orga- 
nization of Dames, who created a Revolution in the 
Society of the Daughters of the Revolution, and 
made a Declaration of Independence therefrom. 

Department Stores — These are the urban develop- 
ment of the original country store. In them, every- 
thing may be bought and everybody sold. On cer- 
tain days there are Bargain Sales. These occasions 
are greatly enjoyed by the ladies, as they offer all 
the delightful crush and jam of an afternoon tea, 
without any necessity for good manners. 

Dog Fanciers — Persons with this peculiar par- 
tiality may patronize any of the hot frankfurter 
stands or pushcarts. 

Eden Musee — A place of entertainment where 
there are exhibited wax figures made up to look 
unlike noted people of the day. 

Elysian Fields — (Don't see Hoboken.) 

Grant's Tomb — An impressive and oppressive 
looking mausoleum, in the form of a huge inkstand, 
where lie the remains of President Grant and Julia 
Dent Grant. 

Harlem — A station at the other end of the Sub- 
way. 

Hell Gate — (See Subway Entrance.) 

Licenses — Special permits, which must be ob- 
tained before one can sell gunpowder or kerosene, 
found a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to 
Animals, or write poetry. 

Manhattan Island — Twenty-two square miles of 
the Strenuous Life. 

Perambulators — (See Seeing Brooklyn.) 

Society of the Cincinnati — Composed of descend- 
56 



A METROPOLITAN GUIDE-BOOK 

ants of commissioned officers of the American Army 
in the War of the Revolution. 

Sons of the Revolution — Composed of descendants 
of soldiers of the American Army in the War of the 
Revolution, who were snubbed by the Society of 
the Cincinnati. 

Sons of the American Revolution — Composed of 
descendants of the soldiers of the American Army 
of the War of the Revolution, who were snubbed 
by the Sons of the Revolution. 

Stock Exchange — This building is so constructed 
that it is largely made up of comers, but a seat on 
the floor of the house may be had for eighty thou- 
sand dollars. Although not advertised as a zoo, its 
inmates are bulls, bears and lambs, all of whom are 
endeavoring to keep the wolf from the door. (cf. 
Wild Animals I Have Known.) 

Weather Bureau — This organization doesn't know 
its own mind from one minute to another. When it 
wants certain kinds of weather, it hangs out various 
little flags as signals, but before the weather sig- 
naled for has a chance to come, the Bureau whips in 
those flags and puts out others. It is owing to this 
indecision of character that the Weather Bureau is 
unable to predict certainly the weather for any given 
day, and shelters itself behind such terms as "pos- 
sibly partly cloudy," "winds mostly variable," and 
"perhaps partially foggy." The Bureau is located 
on the roof of one of the loftiest skyscrapers of New 
York, and is a most interesting place to see. (No 
visitors allowed.) 



57 



MASCULINE AUTHORS AS MODISTES 

IN MOST books of "Advice to Young Authors," 
one of the first and best advisory remarks is to 
"write only about what you know." It might be 
well for many of our men novelists to heed this cau- 
tion, and be less minute in their descriptions of 
woman's dress. 

As a rule, our realists are careful in this direction 
and deal only with unimpeachable generalities ; as in 
Howells, we read of "an aesthetic dress of creamy 
white" or "she dressed simply in dark blue"; while 
"a brown silk of subdued splendor" is perhaps as 
near a detailed fashion note as that astute gentleman 
ever gets. 

Frank R. Stockton was another conservative. His 
delightful young ladies are usually attired in "a robe 
of soft white flannel," "a blue-spotted calico," or a 
"fashionable driving costume, edged with fur," al- 
though once we find a beautiful heroine "arrayed in 
flowing folds of soft white cashmere, lace, and silk, 
a narrow velvet ribbon round her neck from which 
hung a sparkling jewel, and bands of gold about her 
round white wrists." 

Kipling, with even greater canniness, contents 
himself with such comprehensive adjectives as "ball- 
room-frocked" or "gray-ulstered and black-velvet- 
hatted." And these are the ways of the wise. 

Others there be, however, who insist on describ- 
58 



PLEASING PROSE 

ing the costumes of their heroines not wisely, but 
too well, and achieve thereby some startling mental 
pictures. 

Mr. Nordau tells us of a lady who wore "a two- 
toned silk, dove's breast and pale lilac, with a rose- 
colored vest and lace sleeves," Another of his 
women characters wears "a wrap of cherry-colored 
plush, trimmed with white fur and lined with steel- 
blue silk." 

Mr. Maarten Maartens arrays a lady in "a simple 
evening frock of crushed strawberry crepon, with 
ripe strawberry-silk ribbons, and crimson lace on 
the front." 

George Meredith, shifting the responsibility in 
part, says that "millinery would tell us that she wore 
a fichu of thin white muslin crossed in front over a 
dress of the same light stuff trimmed with deep 
rose. She carried a gray-silk parasol traced at the 
borders with green creepers." 

One wonders whether the last word refers to vines 
or caterpillars. 



59 



SEP 29 19tS 







^1 



